


Coping Methods

by StoneForests



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Hallucinations, Nonbinary Eighth Doctor, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-12-01 22:37:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20921300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoneForests/pseuds/StoneForests
Summary: After the War, the Rani struggles to move on.





	Coping Methods

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a zine that fell through. It was a vent piece, because I actually do have PTSD.

The Rani jerked awake with a hoarse cry, drenched in a cold sweat. With a shaking hand, she reached over to tap the lamp on her bedside table twice, bathing her bedroom in a soft amber light. Her bloodshot eyes flicked back and forth around the room, and once she was satisfied that she wasn’t in any danger for the moment, she slumped back against the pillows with a sigh. The nightmares were supposed to become  _ less _ frequent with time, weren’t they? Just her luck, she supposed, that they seemed to be intensifying instead. 

With a soft curse that would have made her old Kitriarch gasp in shock, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, easing herself into a standing position using the bedpost closest to her for support. Any other time, she would have one of her partners here to comfort her, or at least to help her stand, but now the silence in her head was almost deafening. 

_ Hello? _ she asked in her mind, part of her still hoping desperately for a response. Just as she’d feared, the bond was dormant, empty. She suppressed the urge to break down and cry, walking to the liquor cabinet and pouring herself a drink. This, too, was becoming a much more frequent habit of hers. The Rani knew that she shouldn’t be drinking so much, of course, but the warm tingly feeling the alcohol left behind helped her to forget just how empty she felt inside. 

She sat down in the overstuffed armchair in the corner, giving up on the glass and drinking straight from the bottle. She wasn’t entirely sure  _ what _ she was drinking, just that it was helping for now. She lost track of time after that, and the only thing she was really aware of was that she’d finished the bottle in her hand. 

“Ushas?” The soft whisper jolted the Rani out of her stupor, startling her into dropping the bottle. It shattered against the cool tiles, but she didn’t even seem to notice. Her eyes were fixed on the figure in front of her, an all-too-familiar face that sent a sharp pang to both her hearts. The Doctor’s eighth face stood just a few feet away, frowning in concern. “Oh, Ushas, what’ve you done to yourself?” 

“Theta,” she gasped, relieved, before one logical thought broke through. “Wait… I saw you regenerate… and Gallifrey is dead and gone… oh. You’re just in my head, aren’t you?”

“Of course I’m in your head, my love, but why on earth should that mean that I’m not real?” they asked. She wrinkled her nose at them. 

“Even in my head, all you do is quote human literature,” she muttered. They laughed as they knelt down beside her, taking her hand in theirs. It felt so  _ real _ , but she knew that if they were really there, she’d be able to feel them through their bond. “I don’t imagine you’re just here to misquote Albus Dumbledore at me.”

“Not quite,” they agreed, and even as a hallucination, even that tiny half smile could light up the whole room. After a moment, though, they regained their serious expression. “Ushas, what exactly were you planning to accomplish here? Drink yourself into a coma?”

“Better that than to remember what I lost,” she muttered. “Or to wake up screaming every hour because of another nightmare.”

“You’re not doing yourself any favours,” the Doctor said. “There’s got to be some other way you can cope. One that doesn’t involve you nearly killing yourself or causing some irreparable damage.”

“What exactly do you suggest?” she asked. Even though they were a hallucination, the reproach in their voice was enough to make her regret drinking as much as she did.

“Well, perhaps finding something you used to enjoy,” they suggested. “Maybe going back to the labs?”

“How am I supposed to bring myself to work?” she asked, her voice trembling. She’d never let herself show this much weakness before, not even in front of her partners. “How do I go on, knowing that you two are gone?”

“You’ve always been the strongest of us, Ushas,” they told her. “Ever since we were children. Even when you collapsed, when you were hospitalised, you were still the strongest. If anyone could survive this, it’s you.”

“I just…” she sighed, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “I don’t have anything left…” 

“If there’s one thing I’d have expected you to learn by now, my love, it’s this.” They knelt beside her chair again. “You can’t get rid of us that easily. You know it in your hearts. We’re not gone, just… lost for a while.”

“But my head-” she started, but they cut her off.

“Do you really think that Rassilon wouldn’t have crippled the bond first, when he did what he did?” they pointed out. “He would want to make sure that nobody would know where to look for you while he tortured you into becoming a soldier.” They paused for a moment to let that sink in. “As I’ve said many times before, you’re a genius. You can repair the bond, given time. Have patience, and find other coping methods until you do. Please.” The Rani nodded and closed her eyes then, allowing herself to breathe and calm down. When she opened her eyes again, the Doctor was gone, but their words still echoed in her mind.  _ If anyone could survive this, it’s you… we’re not gone, just lost…  _ She shook her head slightly, then eased herself into a standing position. 

“Vayu, lock the liquor cabinet behind me,” she ordered as she left the room. Her TARDIS hummed in response, and there was a faint  _ click _ as the cabinet locked. “Don’t allow me to open it if I’m showing any signs of an impending breakdown.” With that, she walked to one of the labs. As she began to work, she activated her TARDIS’s voice interface, the hologram taking on a default form to avoid causing more pain. The two began a sort of therapy session; she had her experiments to keep her busy, and she also had someone to talk to rather than the empty bond. At the end of their first ‘session’, the featureless white avatar turned to look at her. 

“My Rani, you must understand one thing,” it began carefully. “This will not be an easy path. It will be long, and likely painful, but it is necessary.”

“I don’t want to return to my partners in this state,” she said. “I need to recover from this… whatever this is.”

“I believe the term is ‘post-traumatic stress disorder, my Rani,” it replied. “It is a common diagnosis among humans, especially those from abusive or combat situations. I do not know the statistics among Gallifreyans.”

“Because no Gallifreyan would be willing to admit to having a flaw of any kind,” the Rani muttered. The TARDIS walls hummed with what seemed to be laughter. “Anyhow, Vayu, my mind is made up. Whatever it takes, I  _ will _ overcome this. I will not let myself continue to be ruled by a mental disorder.”

“Very well, then, my Rani,” it said. “Let us begin.”


End file.
